


Memory Leak

by Rahlian



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, F/F, Gen, Marriage, time skip
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 02:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rahlian/pseuds/Rahlian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up to strange people in strange places is a occupational hazard for a covert government assassin but Sameen Shaw never signed up for waking up next to Root five years in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Failure to Read Hard Drive 01

_//Searching for asset…_

_//Asset Sameen Shaw found…_

_//GPS lock acquired..._

_//Location New York City, New York, USA_

“Good morning lover,” an attractive brunette with sleep tousled hair and heavy lidded brown eyes  murmurs when her eyes flicker open. Sameen Shaw, former ISA assassin and professional vigilante takes about a quarter second to process what she is seeing before rolling away from the woman reaching for her and out of the bed.

There is a Heckler and Koch USP Compact on the nightstand next to the bed and she sweeps it into her hand as her feet hit the floor and she backs away.

Shaw takes in her surroundings in an instant; a moderately sized bedroom, Queen-sized bed, dual vanities side by side and a walk-in closet and some sort of chain mesh curtain hanging in the open doorway. The walls are a neutral off-white, popcorn ceiling in the same shade and carpet thick enough for her feet to sink into without feeling the floor.

The other woman, the Machine-crazy hacker Root Shaw realizes, remains calm, slowly sitting up against the headboard, an arm keeping the sheets up and covering her obviously naked form. Root locks eyes with her, no hint of a smirk, blush or quaver in her stare.

"Root," Shaw growls, slowly resettling her fingers on the grip of her pistol and weighing the pros and cons of simply shooting the woman here and now.

"Sameen, you must be wondering what is going on and I promise that I have all the answers that you are looking for. I am not going to ask you to put your gun down, but I would ask you refrain from shooting me until I have answered your questions."

"Like I would trust anything you say, you crazy bitch. You zapped me with a taser and drugged me twice not to mention leaving me to die in a hotel room. And don't call me by my first name."

"Sameen," Root continues as if she hadn't heard what Shaw said, "what is today's date?"

“Uh, March 4th, 2013." Shaw had no idea what was going on but it was nothing she liked. She didn't know Root quite like Harold did, but Shaw thought she had a pretty good handle on how Root's brain worked most of the time and she could realize that there was something off about this whole situation. Root was crazy, but she always had a method to her madness and Shaw could not see what her game was here. Or, for that matter how she had even gotten into her bed in the first place.

Root did not help a thing when she let out a sad sigh, sagging back against the headboard  with some unreadable expression. Not really feeling emotions was a benefit most of the time, Shaw thought, but she really wished she could tell what the other woman was thinking.  Shaw had no idea what was going on, but there was nothing to like about this scenario, from their complete nudity, to the soft, restrained tone Root spoke in.

"Sameen, I am going to tell you some things that are going to be hard to accept and I would ask that you simply listen with an open mind. In the meantime, why don't you put something on?" Root said, pointing to a silk robe that hung off the back of a chair by the vanity. Root slipped off the bed, slipping on a black silk robe that just barely covered her ass and moved into the next room, returning a moment later with a phone.

Shaw cautiously accepted the device when Root offered it, eying it warily. Root was a technical prodigy, equally skilled at causing mayhem with both electrons and bullets so Shaw regarded the phone with a good deal of suspicion.

Root sat down on the near side of the bed and spoke, completely unruffled by the pistol aimed at her.

“First of all, my full legal name is Samantha Shaw and the date is not March 2013, but December 15, 2018."

Shaw waited a beat before letting out a short, mirthless laugh. "Of course it is. I am going to get dressed and leave now and if you follow me I will shoot first and ask questions later."

"Sure thing, but before you do, I would ask you to check the date on your phone first. You are going to have to open the window to get a signal though."

Shaw tried to find some angle to the question but found none, so she nodded. Shaw cautiously brought the device back up and flicked a thumb across the screen.

“Zero-six-two-four,” Root said when Shaw shot her a look.

The phone unlocked and Shaw opened the window like Root had instructed and immediately opened an internet browser and checking the local news of Normal, Illinois. The date read 6:23 Saturday, December 15th, 2018, which lined up with what the phone’s date stamp said if she was in New York, which the phone said she was.

“You faked your death and quit the ISA to join a band of vigilantes guided by a benevolent AI five years ago. Another hostile AI was developed soon after and you were captured and tortured. Your memories have been...unreliable since then. Some days you remember more than others.”

A thousand questions came to mind, but the one that fell from her lips was “why do you have my name? You aren't my long lost sister or something?"

Root gave her a smile that was filled with more incomprehensible emotion. “No, I am not your sister; I am your wife,” and those last four words struck all questions from her mind. “We have been married two years, thirteen days now.”

‘My…wife,” Shaw repeated after a long moment. Her lips formed the words with discomforting ease, the total lack of mental alarm bells going off around this beautiful stranger itself setting off alarm bells. And as if those two words were some kind of counterspell, she finally noticed a pair of glittering gems set into the bands of two suddenly almost uncomfortably heavy silver rings on her left hand.

“If you will look in your phone I think you will find answers to most of your questions," Root said when Shaw returned to Earth.

Eyeing the woman carefully, Shaw brings the phone back up and thumbs to the home screen and a video immediately starts to play.

"The first thing you need to know is that everything that I'm about to tell you is 'blue templar.'"

‘Blue templar’ was her safeword, telling Shaw that if the video wasn't legitimate then it's creator had very good intelligence on her.

"Second, your name is Sameen Shaw and the woman who most likely sitting across from you is your wife, Root." Shaw is filming herself in a tank top and boxers on the bed and turns the phone around to show Root, smiling and offering a wave. A pair of rings matching hers glittering from a finger. Root's smile is wide and genuine, turned from where she was sitting at the vanity.

"The third thing you need to know is that you were diagnosed with variable anterograde-retrograde amnesia on November 1st, 2015 after receiving a gunshot to the head in the basement of the NYSE." Video-Shaw brought the camera close to her forehead and she could see a faint, puckered scar just below her hairline,  about the size of a nine millimeter bullet.  Shaw's free hand rose almost unconsciously to gently prod the ridge of skin, having to physically touch the scar to believe it.

"You can take most of what Root says as fact, although depending on how much you remember she will try to convince you that you don’t mind it when she plays her jazz too loud on the sound system.

"Fourth, there are two things you don’t share; your food and your clothes. Do NOT let Root convince you to wear any of her underwear. She will just end up molesting you somewhere awkward.

"Finally, listen to Root. She knows you better than you know yourself. The world has changed a lot in the past two years and the rules have changed with them. You may not like some of the things Root will ask you to do but you must trust that she loves you and knows what is best.”

The video ended and Shaw was left staring blankly at the background image that made it look like Root was trapped behind the screen.

“You need time to process,” Root said with authority. “Take as long as you need. I will have pancakes and coffee ready when you come out.”

Root slid off the bed and disappeared through the door. Looking back down at her phone, she saw a folder titled “Important! Read First” with three subfolders, “People,” “Her” and “Journal.”

The “People” folder had dossiers on various agents of the Machine, knowing or otherwise and the Machine itself of course. The files contained brief summaries of their history and her relationship to each of them. It was very her, Shaw had to admit, clinical and to the point, getting the information required across as efficiently as possible.

It took her thirty-four minutes to absorb the information and leave the bedroom, retrieving a pair of blue striped boxers and a black tee from the floor by the nightstand. That was something that was comfortably her.

There was a steaming mug of coffee sitting at the bar as Sameen slipped onto the stool tucked under the bar and gratefully sipped at the perfectly made drink, one cream, one sugar, just how she liked it.

Sameen watched the other brunette flit around the kitchen. She'd thrown on a cream apron embroidered with sky-blue forget-me-nots, a look that Sameen reluctantly admitted worked for her.

“So we are in lesbians,” Sameen said to Root’s back after a moment.

“You really do like that line, don’t you. You give it most times you don’t remember us.”

"And that is something we need to talk about."

"I thought you might want to have this discussion sooner or later."

"Yeah. I have to admit a large part of me wants to shoot you right now. But the stuff on my phone makes a pretty compelling case. So I am going to give you one chance to tell a story that convinces me that we really are in love." Shaw punctuated that statement by moving her right hand into sight, setting the butt of her Compact on the counter, barrel pointed at Root.

Sameen Shaw had not risen to be one of the top operatives in the Activity by trusting easily, as in the words of Robert Hersh, there were two kinds of ISA agents, the paranoid and the dead. She couldn't imagine what kind of game Root was playing, what kind of intelligence or access she possessed that would still be of value if it actually was 2018, but just because she couldn't figure out what Root's endgame was didn't mean there wasn't one.

Root sighed and leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms under her breasts.

"The first time we had sex you were hiding out in an abandoned subway station because your cover was blown by a malevolent AI called Samaritan that was trying to kill us all. The first time we made love was in Homs, Syria after we had tracked down and killed an arms dealer who had gotten his hands on some nuclear launch codes. We got married in Vegas after getting drugged and drunk while looking for a number.

"You once said that you and I together would be a four-alarm fire in an oil refinery and we are, along with so much more. We are a team, partners through and through Sameen. We have both gone through hell and high water for each other, killed for each other. But that is not what you want to hear. In fact I am pretty sure there are no words that that will convince you of the truth."

"So what are you going to do to keep me from shooting you then?"

"Show you that words were never our strong suit," Root said quietly, padding slowly around the bar. Root ignored the way that the barrel of Sameen’s pistol tracked her as she moved and dug into her ribs when she was settled onto Shaw's lap. It was, as with most things concerning the other woman, a situation where her mind and her body had vastly different ideas of what her reaction should be. Internally, she wanted to throw the brunette off her lap and to the ground but her free hand just settled on Root's hip.

Then Root wrapped her arms around Shaw's neck and kissed her. Shaw’s mind immediately filled with static, electricity filling her body, moving on instinct and muscle memory as the pistol thumped to the floor in to fill her hands with the brunette. Root's mouth is hot and hungry and wet, teeth nipping at her lips until she is granted access. Their tongues clash, pushing, pulling, allowing exploration and demanding it at the same time.

One of Root's hands tangles in her hair as one of hers slips under Root's robe, squeezing Root's ass as her other arm snakes around Root's waist to pull her closer.  Sameen can feel every part of Root, from her firm thighs to taut stomach to the swell of her breasts capped by incredibly aroused nipples that her thin silk robe does nothing to conceal, but it is not enough. Sameen's nails dig into the meat of Root's ass and the bone of her hip and someone moans.

It wasn’t until Root broke the kiss that her brain cleared, although her hands remained on Root’s silk-covered hips.

“What… what was that?” Shaw asked when her breath returned to her.

“That was us, sweetie. You and me. You don’t always drink coffee anymore because all you say you need as a kiss from me to get you through the day.”

That was the exact kind of sappy bullshit that Shaw had always despised, but if that was what kissing the other woman was like all the time… She had felt chemistry with lovers in the past before of course, but nothing that even came close to what just happened.

Sameen Shaw is not a romantic woman. She does not enjoy long walks on the beach and does not lose herself in kisses, but she found herself breathless and unable to look away from Root. She didn't know how long they sat there but Shaw's legs started to go to sleep by the time that her higher functions reengaged and she realized what she was doing.

"Well. I guess I'm gay now."

Root cocked an eyebrow. "That was quick."

"Well, I can honestly say that I have never been kissed like that before." Sameen’s heart was still racing and her lips tingled.

Root smiled and ran her fingers through her wife’s hair, nails lightly scraping her scalp. Sameen did not moan at the way Root's nails felt like they were about to draw blood but the heat in her belly that Root's first kiss had ignited made it very hard not to.

"Now as enjoyable as this is, I really need to flip those flapjacks before they burn."

An uneven silence settled over the apartment, Root humming to herself as she pulled the bacon off the heat and replaced them with eggs while Sameen wondered at the bizarrely domestic air that settled over the apartment. It it had been a long time since she had thought of having a home life, not since she became a Marine.

She didn't do relationships, she didn't do mornings after. She didn't do anything that should end with the person who was as close to being her nemesis as anyone had come since boot camp cooking her a very balanced breakfast after sleeping with her. If she was being honest with herself, she still wasn't sure she believed what she was experiencing, except for the scars, her hand involuntarily going to the one on the left side of her forehead just below the hairline.

Sameen was just placing her Compact back on the counter when Root did a neat little twirl and deposited a plate of chocolate chip pancakes in front of her with a smile, sliding onto her lap and offered Shaw a fork, shoots Root a look, Shaw cocking an eyebrow in turn.

“Sorry. I should have asked what your dial was set to first.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sameen said, picking up her fork, her free arm remaining around Root's waist.

The 'her' folder in her phone had been all about Root. One of the files had described how she and Root had worked out a scale for how comfortable she was feeling on a particular day, one being no contact and ten being full-on kink. “I think I’m feeling about five right now.” That news caused Root's smile to falter before Root forced it back, just a little bit brighter.

“I have to say, you are doing better accepting a larger time period than usual,” Root told Sameen, causing the latter to shrug.

“It feels right. You feel right.” Sameen regretted the stupidly gooey, raw honesty that had slipped past her filters when Root got a positively dopey expression. The hacker ate the piece of pancake that Sameen was about to eat and slid off her lap flitted across the kitchenette, giving off such a domestic air that she both gagged and did not.

To tell the truth, she was still feeling quite wary of the hacker, but at the same time she meant what she said about Root feeling right. Not to mention that as a former covert operative for one of the most secretive government programs the world, she was pretty good at spotting lies and Root wasn't telling any as far as she could tell.

Shaw brought her plate to the sink, allowing her body to go on auto-pilot, letting muscle memory take over. She was just finishing drying the frying pan when Root cocked her head. The Machine, an artificial god speaking to her prophet. Or so Root’s file said. Shaw was pretty sure that those were Root’s words.

Shaw turned and gave Root a steady look while the Machine relayed Her instructions. “We're needed at the library,” Root said after a relative eternity. Shaw smiled thankful for something simple and familiar.

The walk in closet was pretty much what Sameen expected, two thirds of the space clearly belonging to Root, blouses, dresses, jackets, hats that she would never wear as well as a number of mannequin heads with a wide variety of wigs.

The shirts hanging up were a little blousier and the jeans a lot tighter than her tastes ran. “Jeans,” Root called from the walk-in, startling Shaw.

“What?”

“The black jeans with the pink stitching on the inside. Those are my favorite.” Shaw took a moment to locate the pair in question and instantly knew why they were Root’s favorites. After another moment’s consideration, Shaw found that she actually wanted to kiss Root again, and Shaw was sure that the jeans would be worth one.

“Oh Sameen,” Root purred when she emerged from the closet after spending a full minute hopping to get into the jeans. Shaw quirked an eyebrow, smirking. Root closed the distance between them in two quick steps but brought herself to an abrupt halt just short of her. Shaw knew why instantly, Root was trying to respect uncertain boundaries, so Shaw show her what she thought.

Repeated exposure to that little spark of energy that thrummed when they kissed seemed to be breeding a tolerance, as she actually managed to not bliss out immediately. As what seemed to be becoming an all-too-regular occurrence, something interrupted. A phone rang out somewhere in the apartment and Root immediately broke off, looking towards the door.

“Aw, come on,” Shaw complained. “Are you serious?”

“Sorry, Sameen. She knows to only call in an emergency when I am in this room.”

Root did not respond to Shaw’s startled, ‘what do you mean ‘in this room,’” and Shaw scowled. The ringing stopped the moment Root crossed the threshold. While Root was listening to the Machine, Shaw looked around and gathered the Beretta Nano and twin Walthers that were everything they would need for the day in the room.

Tucking the Compact into the waistband of her pants at the small of her back, Shaw moved into the living room. "Root, is it just me or are there no electronics in the bedroom other than the alarm clock?”

“You’re right; there aren't. You don't like to keep electronics in the bedroom because I am the Machine's analog interface. There is a Faraday cage in the walls so no one can listen to us in there, not even the Machine. Everything goes by the door."

"That... actually sounds like me," Shaw said. It was the first thing that truly did sound like her.

Root finished whatever she had been fiddling with in the kitchen and followed Shaw to the door. She scooped up the phone, keys and a pair of shades of the table by the door. "Keys please," Root asked with her hand out. "I've been driving us to work on the morning ever since your injury."

Shaw shot Root a suspicious look before shaking her head. "I wanna see what this goes to first."

She found her suspicions verified and knew the keys were hers when they led to a sleek black Porsche 911 Carrera S parked in the garage under their building. “Lying to me when I can't remember the truth, that's low Root. There is no way I let you drive us to work in my baby here, " Shaw said running her hand along the body of car.

Root scowled at Shaw. “Honestly Sameen, how is it you forget everything about me, yet you always remember your stupid car. Worst gift I ever gave you.”

“Okay, now there is no way you don’t love this car. I don’t need to know much to know that we fuck like rabbits in here.”

The former ISA assassin slid behind the wheel and started the engine. “Oh yeah, we fuck in here,” Shaw threw of her head back and said when it purred to life. Her grin just widened when Root wouldn’t meet her gaze when she got in as well.

The car drove like a dream even though she barely got it over thirty the entire commute. The library looked just the same from the outside, still covered in gray scaffolding all these years later.

It wasn’t until they reached Finch’s workstation that she noticed something was off. For one, Root slipped into Finch’s chair and started tapping away at the keyboard and murmuring to the monitors in a way that Shaw knew would annoy the quiet genius.

“So where’s Finch and Reese?” Shaw asked after a moment, Root’s fingers stilling at her words.

“One of them is right here,” Reese said rounding the corner, settling his jacket on his shoulders as he did so. The man she knew as Robert Hersh followed a moment later, his usual dour frown firmly in place.

“A bad day?” the taller and grayer of the pair asked.

Root nodded, frowning at Shaw. “She’s not remembering much. Thinks it’s 2013.”

“So she doesn't even remember Samaritan?”

Shaw scowled at the others talking over her head, quite literally. There were times being so short was a disadvantage. “She is also right here, Hersh.”

“Sorry, Sameen," Root said before Hersh had a chance to reply. "Did you just ask for Finch?"

“Yeah, our boss, right? He sick or something? Or are my memories are messing with me? He was in my people folder."

Root and Reese exchanged a look that Shaw didn’t like at all. “Can I see your phone?”

Shaw dug the device out of her coat pocket and handed it over, waiting patiently as Root flicked and tapped away at it for a minute.

“So? Someone going to tell me what is wrong?”

Root turned in her chair to meet Shaw's eyes.  "Sameen, Finch has been dead for four years. He traded his life for yours during the final battle with Samaritan, a year after we got you back. He shouldn't be in your people folder.”

Shaw shook her head unwilling to accept Root's words. "No Finch can't be dead. Finch, he created the Machine. He was the brains of our little operation. Who is in charge of Finch is dead? Reese?"

"Try again," Hersh told her.

"Not you obviously, you prefer to take orders. Root?"

"I am Her analog interface," Root said with no small amount of pride. "There have been a few changes the last couple of years."

"No kidding," Shaw groaned, dropping into an empty-handed chair.

Sameen’s morning had been filled with a torrent of unidentifiable emotion, but she knew what it was that hit her low in her gut, taking out the strength in her knees. Loss. She couldn’t believe it, the most intelligent, empathetic man she had ever met, dead. At the same time it came to no surprise that Harold, the creator of the Machine, sacrificed himself to take out its evil doppelganger.

“So why is he still in my phone like he’s alive then?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Root said, turning back to her bank of monitors. “Well?”

Root’s eyes unfocused for a moment and Shaw knew that she was listening for an answer from Her. Root frowned when She did not respond. "Well?" Shaw asked after a relative eternity.

"She definitely put Finch back in your phone, but she won't say why. She's talking about the number."

"No surprise there," Hersh said from where he was leaning against a window.

Well I suppose we will figure it out when the Machine wants us to," Reese added. "In the meantime what about our number?"

"Marcus Anders, eight months old. It seems we have a baby," Root sang as Reese taped the photo of a blond-haired infant to the familiar cracked glass pane along with his vitals.

"So it's probably safe to say that he's not a perpetrator," Hersh opined.

"Unlikely," Reese agreed. "He's an orphan, so he could be proof of some indiscretion. Impossible to say right now, unless the Machine has something to chip in."

Root shook her head. "Nothing right now. But I think I have identified a possible avenue of vulnerability."

Shaw sat back in her seat and watched the team as they planned the surveillance phase of the operation. She let the chatter wash over her, observing the way the three of them quickly sorted out a plan. Shaw had never been one for strategic planning so she let her gaze drift over the library both surprised and not at how little it has changed. She did not consider herself a particularly curious person most of the time but she felt that she might actually have a million questions for Root.

Shaw was not so lost in her thoughts that she stopped listening to what they were saying, sitting forward in her chair to object to a comment from Hersh.

"Hold on there for a second, you did not seriously suggest that the lesbians take care of the baby."

"You have to admit that the two of you have the best cover for adopting a baby out of all of us here," Reese said, sounding as calm and reasonable as ever.

"And while normally I would agree with you Sameen, the Machine already has identities in place for us," Root said in one of her annoying simpering tones.

Shaw opened her mouth to say something except that she found she had no idea what to say. The Machine had decided and that meant Root was decided. Though she could only remember a few adversarial encounters, she knew Root and doubted a few short years would have dampened her Machine-crazy any if it hadn't gotten worse.

Shaw snapped her jaw shut, leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. She could admit defeat when she was and turned her attention to Reese and Hersh. "And let me guess, the two of you will be running down leads," Shaw growled, temper already rising at what she knew was going to be Reese's answer.

Hersh gave an uncharacteristic grin, clearly finding amusement in Shaw's awkwardness. "Sorry Shaw. Just think of it as an opportunity to get to reconnect with your wife."

"Fine. So how are we going to do this? You said it was an orphan, are we just going to grab it?"

"Actually we are going to adopt him dear."

Shaw had so many things to say to that that she scarcely knew where to begin and she let everyone know it.

"Okay, okay everybody needs to slow down a second. When you say adopt, you do mean temporarily, right?" She'd had enough craziness in her morning that she had to be absolutely sure.

Root gave her such a saccharine smile that Shaw feared she was going to say no. "Just until the threat has passed," she said instead, allowing Shaw to take a relieved breath.

"Good. Because I don't care how married we are, I know I don't do kids." Root got a look in her eye and twirled herself around in her chair. "And don't even try to pretend otherwise."

"You aren't as bad with them as you would have us believe, Sameen."

"So is there anything else we taking with the number? Stealing any files or does the Machine give all that to you?"

"While She is much freer than She used to be, some of Her original programming still holds true, so all we get are the numbers. There are some rules not even Her analog interface can violate. That being said, I already breached the adoption agency's firewall and categorized the relevant information," Root said with a gesture to the glass pane.

Root said it as if it were a solemn responsibility instead of a job. Which didn't surprise Shaw; the only thing that really did was the fact that Root seemed to be holding it together so well. Shaw couldn't imagine that having the voice of a nigh-omnipotent,  super smart AI whispering in your ear 24/7 was conducive to mental health, even without preexisting mental issues.

"So it's still decoding Social Security numbers from payphones?"

"She occasionally passes more but it isn't much and not often. And then only when we are simpatico."

"'When we are simpatico?' What is that supposed to mean?"

“Let's just say She doesn’t like it when I’m not happy.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Don’t tell me that the Machine has… like imprinted on one of us. Has it?”

Root gave her a look that Shaw did not like at all. “She is still a child in many ways, but She does not view either of us as a parental figure. Finch was the only one who had that amount of influence over Her.”

"That is still really disturbing. So what happens when we aren't good? We get sat down and those two lump heads play marriage counselor or something?"

"No but it does mean that we do end up going to see Theresa soon."

"We have a therapist? How the hell does that work? Does she know what we actually do?"

"She thinks that our jobs are classified. We have to speak somewhat indirectly sometimes, but she is very good."

"I'm in Hell. I died in my sleep and now I'm in Hell. It's the only logical explanation for everything."

"I'm not that bad," Root admonished.

“Makes me glad I never had a kid, though,” Hersh said in a tone the would be accompanied by a chuckle in a lesser man.

“I hardly think you can compare an AI to one's biological offspring, Hersh,” Root said, rolling her head back on her neck to look at him. “But no, she hasn't imprinted. We simply are more effective when we are not mad at one another.”

“Does she ever stop giving relevant numbers?”

“No, it is just the information about the irrelevant numbers that stops.”

“Well, at least there’s that. And I guess I can get behind taking orders from the Machine, as long as its not got us killing to keep it secret. Just like getting orders from Research, back in the day."

"Just with less bodies at the end of the it," Reese added without looking away from the board.

“In any case, we need to get going, Sameen. We have appointment at the adoption agency in forty minutes and you need to get changed."

“You didn't have a problem with what I am wearing earlier,” Shaw yelled after Root when she disappeared around a bookshelf.

“That was before I knew what our covers were,” Root replied when she returned a moment later, no longer empty handed.

“Seriously?” Shaw complained when Root offered the hanger. “At least there’s nothing pink.”

Reese and Hersh had vanished when she wasn't looking, so she changed into the blouse, cardigan and skirt where she was. She took the purse Root offered and allowed the hacker to take her arm.

"So what are Reese and Hersh going to actually be doing while we are out getting our number?"

"They are going to break into the CPS and stealing our numbers file. "

"Isn't that something that you should be able to steal from here?"

"Normally you would be right but our number's files are missing from the department's online records so we need someone to physically check for the files."

"Well at least they can't be having that much more fun than we are going to have."

Root did not dispute that and simply took Sameen by her elbow and guided her downstairs.

They did not take Shaw 's Porsche but a Mercedes sedan parked two blocks away with a child safety seat set up in the back seat and keys in the ignition. "Look in the glove compartment," Root instructed as Shaw slipped into the passenger seat. She would have preferred to drive but Root beat her to the door.

The glove box turned out to contain a woman's wallet. The wallet in turn contained Lacy Stillman's drivers license, three credit cards, three membership cards and eighty dollars in cash.

"Lacy? Really?"

"I think you look like a Lacy."

"And who are you?"

"Mrs Rachel Stillman, for the past four years. We live in Soho, you are a third grade teacher at St Ann's Prep, I'm independently wealthy and work on the board of a charity that funds walk-in clinics and shelters across the city."

"You have got to be kidding me. I have had some flimsy covers before but nobody will believe this. They're like something out of a trashy romance." Shaw paused a moment, a thought coming to her. "How often does the Machine do this? Send us on a mission together?"

"She provided these covers; they will hold provided you don't break them. As for your other question, we are an effective team,  the Machine recognizes this fact and uses it."

"Okay I know I prefer to shoot first and ask later, but I was a spy for the government before I started doing whatever this is. I can play a cover as well as anyone else on this team."

"Of that, I am well aware, sweetie. And as for 'whatever this is,' we have a name now." Root opened her purse and withdrew a business card. It was white with the three words 'Concerned Third Party' and her name in block case. The reverse had a phone number on it.

"Concerned Third Party?" Shaw asked with eyebrow.

"Something John used to introduce himself as apparently. But yeah, we're kind of a thing now."

"So does that mean that people know about the Machine?"

"No. There are entire parts of the Internet that are devoted to trying to figure out how we do what we do. We even have a section in most of the local papers."

Shaw hummed at that, going back to looking out the window.

Root looked over and shot Shaw one of those overly cheery, toothy smiles that set Shaw's nerves on edge. "And stop smiling like that. You are making my cheeks sore."

"Sorry," Root said without an ounce of contrition.

Shaw sighed and looked out the window, looking back sharply when Root's hand slid into hers. Shaw considered removing her hand but decided it wasn't worth the trouble. And not that she was about to admit it to anyone but it felt nice, Root's fingers intertwined with hers.

They spent most of the ride in silence, Root clearly more comfortable than Shaw. Root eventually pulled into a tree-lined parking lot down the block from the three story brownstone that was their target. "Are you ready?"

Shaw grinned in anticipation of the challenge and slipped out of the vehicle. She thought she had a good enough handle on how Root worked that she could deal with whatever kind of mischief the hacker would try to pull.  

Root was waiting at the front and held out her arm. Shaw considered Root a moment before linking her arm through the crook of Root's elbow. Root flashed her a quick smile as they approached the wooden double doors of the Happy Homes Adoption Clinic.

The clinic was an old brownstone that had been repurposed, the double doors leading a homey foyer. There was an encircling wooden desk and an attending blonde secretary directly across from the doors, the room extending left and right chairs lining the walls,  about half occupied with waiting couples.

The blonde hit them with a wide smile the moment they entered and gave them an attentive look as they approached.

"Hi, we're Rachel and Lacy Stillman. We have an appointment with Mrs Goddard," Root informed the secretary while maintaining a smile to match. Shaw gave a nod and a tight-lipped curve of the lips in turn.

"Ah, yes, I see you here now. Mrs Goddard is in a meeting right now but I will let you know when she is available. You can wait over there in the meantime," the secretary said with a gesture to the waiting area to the left. Root burbled her thanks and guided them over. There were four other couples already seated in the two comfortable chairs opposite the ones they took. There was a table set between the two sets of chairs glass set into wood, a variety of home-life and family magazines and small children's toys scattered over the surface.  A television hung on the wall to their right that babbled about the joys and rewards of parenthood.Shaw thought they looked inquisitive when she scanned them on entrance and was proven right when two blondes moved to sit next to Root.

"So, what are you two doing here?" the redhead with a particularly inquisitive smirk asked. Shaw spot Root a sidelong look at the brazenness on the blonde.

"I'm sorry, my name is Sarah and this is my friend Amanda. Are you here to adopt?"

Shaw wondered why else they would be there but Root spoke up before Shaw had the chance to. "Oh yes, we are so excited. We are actually here to pick up our son. Lacy, my wife here is just beside herself with anticipation. We have been waiting months for today."

Shaw suppressed the urge to scowl as the strangers predictably cooed over that statement.

"Yeah, I can barely stand the wait," Shaw agreed when the attention turned to her. She let her eyes wander again as Root gushed to the two strangers.

Shaw found herself strangely uncomfortable waiting in the lobby of the adoption agency. It just seemed wrong, a pair of former assassins like them in a place like this,  about to be entrusted with something as precious as an infant child.

Shaw was grateful when the receptionist called their alias' names. They were led down a long hallway and deposited them in an office overlooking what Shaw would have called a bullpen anywhere else.

Margaret Goddard was a matronly woman, white hair tied up in a high bun.

"Mrs Stillman, Mrs Stillman, nice to meet you. First of all, I must express my apologies at this whole chain of events. I just got your file this morning and I have to say I have never seen a couple have to go through the kind of gymnastics that you seem to have gone through. From  what I can tell, your entire process has been very strange, but I'm sure I don't have to tell you that."

"It has been very trying," Root said in a tone that implied she was admitting something and then had the nerve to pat Shaw's arm in a consoling fashion.

"I can only imagine. You must be very eager to get on with it. I just need your signatures one last time for our records."

Goddard flipped open a manila folder and slid it across the desk. Shaw scribbled something messy and tossed the pen back. Goddard gave everything a last once over before flipping the folder closed and tucking in her desk.

"Now, how about we go introduce you to your son?"

Root bounced to her feet as soon as Goddard pushed her seat back to rise. Goddard let out a little chuckle and led them upstairs and down a long hall that that ended in a cheerily decorated nursery. Shaw had to repress the urge to shudder at the sky-blue walls spattered with elves, clouds, stars, rabbits and flowers.

There were half a dozen infants in various stages of wakefulness in barred cribs, a black woman sitting in a chair near the middle of the room rocking a crib with her foot.

"Jessica, Marcus' mothers are here to pick him up."

Jessica rose to her feet with a grin and moved to a crib along the back wall. Jessica moved to pluck Marcus out of his crib but Root was already tucking the blanket swaddled infant against her chest.

"Forgive me for saying, but you seem more... invested in this than your wife is," Goddard said.

"Oh she was the one who suggested adoption in the first place. She is just shy when we're out in public," Root said as she breezed over, wrapping her free arm around Shaw's waist, pulling her in close.

Shaw reluctantly reciprocated and forced her lips upwards. "I really am quite excited to get home. I've been spending the last couple week's getting the nursery ready. I think we finally got it just right, and right in time too."

"Well, I hope that everything turns out well for you as Jessica handed a bag filled with the few baby thing the agency could provide.

"So what now?" Shaw asked when Root  turned towards the parking lot.

Root didn't answer immediately, cocking her head in the way she did when listening to her implant. "Acknowledged. Sameen and I have the number in custody."

"Whoa hold on, something ain't right here," Shaw whispered a minute later as they approached the parking lot,  slowing Root down by putting a hand in the crook of Root's arm.

"That ConEd van was there when we parked and I am not seeing any workmen around."

"That would be because they are actually a four Bratva hitmen, all hiding in the van waiting for us to pass by to grab us."

"And when did the Machine tell you all this?"

"While some things have changed, that's not one of them. I still usually receive instructions a second or two before I execute them. Follow me to the car."

"Give me the keys then. I'll get us out of here."

"No, She can guide me faster than I can you," Root told her, depositing their infant number in Shaw's arms. Shaw held him as gingerly as she could while keeping her body between the number and the killers behind her.

She heard the van doors slam open behind her as they turned to enter the parking lot. Root gave her a sharp shove in the small of her back as she turned and opened fire with both pistols. Shaw burst into a run, hearing the car unlock as she reached out for the handle. Root operating in godmode was something to behold, the brunette holding all three gunmen off and sliding in behind the wheel and slamming the vehicle into gear with inhuman precision. She blew one of the van's tires as they peeled out of the lot missing one of the gunmen standing in the street by an inch.

Sameen saw the moment Root came out godmode five and a half blocks away, Root's eyes coming out of the slightly unfocused look they got when the Machine was speaking to her.

"So we lost them?" Shaw asked.

"Three blocks ago. The last two were just being careful."

"Okay, I think I am starting to understand why I like you."

"Yeah. You thought that was pretty hot, right?" Root said in a tone that would have made someone other than Shaw blush.

"Yeah, that was pretty hot," Shaw admitted after a moment, turning to look out the car window.

Marcus took the lull in action to get curious, squirming in Shaw's arms while Root smirked at Sameen's attempts to get the toddler to quiet down.

"So what are we going to do with the number in the meantime?"

"We are going to take our son home of course, " Root said if it were the most logical thought in world.

"Don't call him our son," Shaw shot back, trying to contain Marcus' sudden anxiousness to be anywhere but in her arms.

"Why not? Did we not just adopt him?"

"No, we did not; Rachel and Lacy Stillman did. We faked an adoption to get a number out of danger."

"And you think that John or Harold would do a better job than us? You are the one who was going to be a doctor; you are best equipped to take care of Marcus. "

" As I am sure you know, my specialty was in emergency trauma, not pediatrics. On top of that, it has been years since I have practiced anything other than combat medicine."

"I have no doubts that it will come back to you as you need it to."

Shaw grunted at that but knew that Root was right on both counts. She was the one with the medical training, even if John's bedside manner was marginally better than hers. "Fine. But you get the midnight feedings and diaper changes."

Root did not reply but Shaw caught the hacker's lips curling out of the corner of her eye. It was surprisingly comfortable, the silence that settled over the car, Root focusing on traffic and Shaw wrangling the toddler in her arms. One of the many things that kept her from relationships was her partner's inability to deal with simple silence , a personality flaw that Root did not seem to possess. They arrived at the library in short order, Root slipping around the back of the car and scoops up the three bags in the back seat and nudges the door closed with her hip and grins at Shaw when she opens the door for her.

Root deposited the bags of baby stuff by the corridor that led to the cage and sliding into the command chair before the bank of monitors. Quiet clacking filled the air as Sameen set the infant down and began setting up the collapsible crib. The number only managed to crawl a few feet before Shaw recaptured him and dropped him in the plastic cage and moved to Root's shoulder.

"Take a left at the next light and ditch the car in the alley. Follow the shadow map back and you should be good." Root listened to whichever one of the male half of their little gang replied and deposited her earpiece on the desk and turning to face her.

"So, the Russians sent men to CPS as well it seems. They have the file so hopefully there is something in it."

"No need; I can tell you everything in that folder and some things that aren't, " a carefully-inflected,  cultured voice sounded from the direction of the first floor stairs. Shaw spun around in the blink of an eye, Compact out and unwaveringly pointed at the face of the redheaded British gentleman in a suit Finch would approve of slowly made his way towards them, hands up and out, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

"And how exactly do you know what is in that file? " Shaw asked in a carefully measured tone.

"Because my name is Alistair Wesley and the infant you and your wife recently adopted is my son.”


	2. Failure to Read Hard Drive 02

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck pronouns when writing lesbians man. Clear writing is a trick when they are both she and brunette.

_//Searching for asset....  
_ _//Asset Sameen Shaw found…_  
_//GPS lock acquired…_  
_//Location New York City, New York, USA_

If having a gun pointed at him by the living weapon that was Sameen Shaw bothered him in the least, he hid it well. “I came unarmed, if that helps,” Wesley offered as he raised the back of his jacket and twirled in place.

“Why are you here?” Shaw asked him carefully, slowly rising from her crouch as Root’s hand crept toward a snub-nosed pistol strapped to the underside of the desk, yet another thing that Finch would never have done.

“My son is in danger. I came to protect him,” Wesley stated simply.” However, I was hoping to have a word with the two of you before Mr. Reese shows up. I think we parted amicably enough, but I have always had a bit of a time predicting how you Americans will react."

"You were the one who tried to kill Oliver Veldt in 2012,” Root stated.

Wesley cocked an eyebrow. "I was under the impression that was before your time here at,  what is it you call yourselves? Concerned Third Party?"

"While it was, if you know our name then you know who I am and you should know that I am very good at spotting lies so consider your next answer very carefully," Root instructed him. “How did you find this place? I was thorough when I removed this place from all databases.” The Machine had done the actual cleaning of course but she had been required to destroy several hard copies by hand.

“You certainly did not make it easy, but I talked to a member of the FBI SWAT team that raided this place back in 2014. I swear on the life my son that I mean you and your team nothing but the best of intentions. You are, after all, the ones who kept Marcus from the hands of some people who would not hesitate to harm him if they felt it was necessary. All I want is to keep my son safe and anonymous. Anything I can do to assist towards that end, you have but to ask.”

Shaw tosses her gun to Root and moves to pat Wesley down. She doesn’t really know who he is but she can recognize a fellow operator when she sees one. He is clean so Shaw motions to a seat and he sits, Root returning her gun in turn.

"So would you like to wait for Mr. Reese or can we get started without him?"

"I would prefer if you waited," Reese said as rises into view from the first floor, Hersh in tow. “Been a couple of years, Wesley.” He shoots a look to Shaw and she nods, so the two men tuck their pistols in their belts.

Hersh moves to stand behind Wesley as Reese leans against a bookcase and asks, “so who wants your son?”

“Bratva, by way of Moscow. My business interests caused the mob some distress and now they wish to return the favor.”

“How much?” Hersh asked suddenly from behind Wesley.

“About fifteen million American.”

“So there is no chance of convincing them to leave your son be. Where is his mother?”

Wesley pressed his lips to a thin line before answering. “She is dead. Two months after Marcus was born. Killed because she was someone I cared about. I am too deep in the game to raise a child, so I put him up for adoption. I thought I had been careful enough but I plainly wasn’t.”

“So what have the Russians been up to the last couple years then?” Shaw asked, ignoring the look Wesley shot her.

“Samaritan took a toll on Elias’ mob and combined with FSB support the Russians managed to take Brighton Beach back as well as most of what was Elias.’”

“Do we know who’s in charge? Can we go crack a few skulls and get them to back off?”

“Unlikely, even if the local _avoritet_ was the one you needed to deal with. No, the man I need to kill is goes by the name Sergei Illyevic, AKA the Surgeon on account of him being a doctor in Vladivostok before becoming involved with the Bratva. He has been in the city for three days near as I can tell and is not wasting time."

"So, seems pretty straight forward from here. Find the guy and make it clear to him that he should leave the kid alone." Hersh grunted his approval and Root gave her a small smile and an eyeroll just for her.

"You would suggest the most direct method, of course."

"Is that not our thing, Hersh's and mine, to be the coldly logical ones? This Illyevic guy sound like a bad dude; what's the problem with just shutting him down the fun way?"

Wesley shook his head. "The problem is that I have no idea where in the city. While I could find him given time, I was rather hoping that you would be able to expedite the process.”

“What makes you think that we could find him faster than you?”

Wesley gave Root a flat look. “Don’t be coy. First, this is your city and two, you have too good of a track record for being in the right place at the right time for you not to have access to the city’s surveillance feeds or a predictive algorithm that you must be able to use.”

“There are some search algorithms that I can use to calculate Illyevich’s most probable location, but that will take some time,” Root allowed.

Wesley rose and tugged on the sleeves of his shirt, realigning his shirt under his jacket and vest. “Then I think I will take my leave; there are some other matters I need to see to while I am in the city."

Shaw cocked an eyebrow. "Emotions aren't my thing but shouldn't you want to at least hold your kid before you bail?"

"Miss Shaw, I am a freelance spy; there is no scenario where I take my son home. He is going back into the system once we have dealt with the threat and… bonding with him now will only make things more unpleasant later. You can reach me at this number when you have found something.” He pulled a card out of a pocket and placed it on the table.

“So that’s it for now?”

“At least until Illyevic is found." Shaw sighed, knowing it to be the truth barring something out of the Machine's view happening. Her phone said that the Machine had practical omniscience in New York so unless their Russians had significantly more power than they should have, the chances of that were barely worth considering.

"Well I need to stop in at the precinct for a couple hours. Paperwork," Reese said with a shrug and switched his Browning for his police issue Glock.

“Knock ‘em dead, Lieutenant,” Root said, tossing him a grin and a sloppy salute as he left.

“Lieutenant?” Shaw asked.

“Cover identity. She gave it to John a couple years ago when we were hiding from Samaritan. He stuck with it, especially after Fusco got injured.”

“That must be… interesting?” she said, covering the surprising bolt of worry that shot through her at mention of the fat detective being injured.

Root smirked. “The 8th Precinct had a significant uptick in civilian complaints the first couple months Detective Riley was on the force. Made a lot of friends in IA.”

“I can only imagine,” Shaw said with a grin of her own.

Root let out a brief chuckle and spun in her chair to face the bank of monitors, fingers flying over the keys.

"Grab the number," Hersh told her, jerking his head towards a gap in the bookshelves. Shaw scooped the number up out of his pen and into her arms, following him to the Faraday cage that was occasionally put to use as a prison and now housed the armory. Shaw set the baby onto the table and turned to watch Hersh open the mesh door to the large gun locker and pulled out a tray of pistols, handing it to her and retrieving another tray, this one loaded with cleaning supplies.

Shaw was almost uncomfortably grateful for the mindless, rote task. After the upheaval of her day, the familiarity of the chore was calming, steadying. There was a reason why Hersh was the only other person in her previous life other than Cole that she even considered a possible friend. Hersh said nothing, asked nothing, expected nothing.

She had just finished with her second Colt 1911 when she set the reassembled pistol and reached for a Browning. "So how did you end up defecting?"

"Same way you did. Control betrayed me, you and your friends came to my rescue. Took me a month or three to accept your offer. Not much else to say."

It took Shaw another couple of minutes to work through her thoughts before she asked her next question. "Is she okay?“

"It isn't easy, living with your condition," Hersh says after a brief pause, knowing there is only one ‘she’ Shaw could be referencing. "She soldiers on. You have good days.”

“Do I love her?” Shaw asked in an embarrassingly small voice.

“Head over heels. It’s a little disgusting how handsy you two can get after a good fight.”

“I guess I can see that,” Shaw mumbled, cheeks radiating heat. “She does have nice-“

“Please for the love of God do not finish that sentence.”

Shaw just dropped her head in her hands when she realized what she had almost said. “God, I am certifiable.”

“It’s the human condition Shaw. Get used to it.” Hersh’s voice may have been steady enough but his shoulders jerked with suppressed laughter she was sure.

Shaw didn’t trust the words that might come out of her mouth were she to open it, so she didn’t, scowling in concentration at the pistol in her hands. They went through about half the armory before Shaw felt settled enough. She reentered and braced herself, beelining for Root. She stopped herself closer than she normally would and instead of crossing her arms or resting them on her hips, leaned her form along the back of Root’s chair.

Root glanced up and shot her a smile. “Feel better?”

“It still feels weird that you can read me so well. A good part of my old job was to be unreadable.”

“Well, if it helps I have a very intimate relationship with the subject in question.”

Shaw was saved from having to answer by Hersh clearing his throat. “Well, if there is nothing else, I‘m going to go as well.”

“Keep your phone close. We may have to act on short notice.”

“As your say, Boss,” Hersh said with a flippant salute. Root replied with an equally offhand finger, Hersh grinning at the response as he sank out of sight.

“Boss?”

“Ugh, it’s just Hersh being an asshole. He likes to compare me and Control.”

“Speaking of, what happened to my old boss?”

“She became more trouble than she was worth to Samaritan.” Root shrugged. “Predictable end for a predictable woman.”

“So, what do I usually do in my downtime nowadays?”

“I’ve been teaching you to code, but you obviously don’t remember any of that. We put a gym in on the next floor though.”

That certainly piqued her interest and she squeezed Root’s shoulder once before leaving to investigate. What she found the next floor up was respectable in the way that it had obviously been assembled piece by piece, including a sound system.. She had no idea why they had such a complete gym, near thirty pieces, counting the free weight sets as one. She wasn’t complaining though, making good use of the treadmill to work up a light sweat before switching to the speed and eventually heavy bags.

She lost track of time, ten minutes turning into an hour, turning into two.

The face of the stereo read 12:40 when she caught a flash of brown in the corner of her vision. “How long were you standing there?”

“Just a few minutes,” Root told her with a curve to her lips and a sparkle to her eyes that made her breath hitch and did funny things to her stomach. “I’m getting hungry. Want to break for lunch?”

“I could go for burgers,” Shaw allowed, walking over to the towel rack, trying not to let on how Root’s gaze was affecting her. She was grateful for the opportunity to bury her face in the fluffy towel. At least she could control her breathing even if it felt her face was about to ignite. While Root could move quietly when she wanted to, Shaw’s blood was up and Root’s presence had all her senses sharp.

Shaw briefly considered turning on Root at the last second, but found she actually wanted the other woman to touch her. That desire was not extended to licking though and she immediately broke Root’s embrace when she dragged her tongue up her neck under her ear.

“What the hell Root?”

“What?” Root asked, adopting innocence. “I just needed a little pick-me-up. It’s nowhere my tongue hasn’t been before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you can just walk up to me and lick me. That is-” But whatever she was going to say was cut off as Root simply closed her lips over Sameen’s.

“You were saying?” Root asked when she pulled back.

Shaw opened her mouth to continue what she had been saying but found that Root had driven it completely out of her mind. “Goddammit Root,” Shaw growled as Root giggled.

“Hey don’t be mad, sweetie,” Root said, straightening her face out as she caught Sameen by the elbow.

“Let me rinse off and then we can go eat. Get anything you need to get done done. We’re going home after we eat.”

“Oh, and why is that?” Root asked, having more than a suspicion what Shaw was about to say.

“Because after I gas up I am gonna fuck you till you can’t move.” Shaw just shook her head and ducked into the attached bathroom when Root only grinned.

Shaw grabbed her keys from the corkboard when she had changed into black jeans and long-sleeved shirt under her jacket. She left Root to deal with the number, juggling the baby and all his accoutrements.

When Root and the infant were squared away, Shaw pulled out of the garage a little quicker than necessary, following Root’s directions to the food.

They got a couple looks through the glass facade, Shaw finally accepting the number with impatience as Root reached back in the car to get his bag.

The server helpfully grabbed a high chair as he led them to a booth. The place wasn’t large, maybe ten booths arranged on the front glass window with the bar just opposite.

They were given a few minutes before their server returned. Root had clam chowder while Shaw ordered bacon on her steakburger and fries. Root pulled out a bag of Cheerios and scattered some on the tray, to the number’s delight.

Shaw fended off Root’s attempts to steal her fries with the fork she didn’t use otherwise. The food was better than average she thought and left her sated for the moment. Shaw drove a little less dangerously on the way to the apartment. Shaw helped carry the pen up to their door. Shaw was just twisting her key in the lock (being the one less encumbered) when one of the other doors in the hall opened.

“Root, Sam, what in the world are you two doing with a baby? Did you adopt?” a dark haired-middle aged woman asked stepping up to the door next to theirs.

“Yes.”

“No.” Shaw scowled as their neighbor looked confused. “Get in the apartment, Root, and shut up. Ignore her,” Shaw said to the woman in turn. “Just looking after him for the weekend for a friend.”

“Oh,” the woman said, looking almost disappointed. Shaw didn’t give her a chance to say anything else, practically kicking Root in through the door. She slammed the thing closed behind her.

“Do you do this at every opportunity or just when I can’t remember shit?” Shaw demanded at Root’s retreating back. snapping all three deadbolts into place in the security door. She was over by the bar as Shaw set the pen up. Shaw grabbed the child from Root’s arms and placed him in the enclosure. “You know what, I don't actually want to know. Get into the bedroom. I gotta take a leak first.”

“I’ll be waiting sweetie,” Root murmured, voice dripping sex.

Shaw relieved herself quickly and turned on the faucet, looking for soap and not finding it. She pops the cabinet and sweeps her gaze over the contents. There weren’t many prescription bottles which is why one in particular caught her eye. The script was made out to a Vanessa Brown, but Root would never get something traceable like a prescription in her own name.

Shaw stomped out of the bathroom and hurled the pillbottle at Root, who had was lying down fully dressed crossways the bed, with her lower legs hanging off.

“What the hell is that Root?”

The other brunette looked down at the bottle and her face fell. “How did you find this?”

“I was looking in the medicine cabinet for soap. That is not important though,” Shaw growled as she stalked closer. “What I want to know is why you are taking a  class 1 antiarrhythmic and heart pressure medication. Because if you were, that would mean that you have a serious heart condition which you would never hide from me. Right, Root?” She ended leaning over the slender brunette, fists braced on either side of her shoulders.

“It is very well managed and my physician-“

“Meaning me, because there is no way I would let anyone else be your primary care provider. Especially if you have a condition that needs to be monitored and managed.”

“Fine, you have it very well controlled. I was feeling well enough that I didn’t see the need to bother you with it,” Root finished smoothly.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine that you haven’t had a conversation of some version of me about how you are always supposed to tell me about really important shit like that.” Sameen paused, shoving herself upright, wrapping her arms around her middle, uncomfortable with the… _swelling_ of emotion she felt concerning Root and struggling to figure out how to parse them. “Medical conditions are always something that you should bother me about, Root. All I could think about was how you could be dying and you didn’t think that I deserved to know.” Sameen took a bracing breath in through her nose and lifted her eyes to meet Root’s. “I may not remember much, but you are important to me. I mean, I married you for crying out loud; do you really want to find out what I would do if you had an attack or something and you hadn’t told me anything?”

Sameen was only able to hold her gaze for a few seconds before she had to avert them, cheeks warming in response to her words. And to top it off, her body seemed to have lost the ability to tell the difference between anger and arousal, because the first was feeding the second.

Sameen had long since learned to appreciate the benefits to having her feelings on low volume, and this utter loss of inner control was rather aggravating, so she took it out on the source of her inner chaos in the way that her body thought best. Root had risen to follower her when she retreated and leaned back as Sameen leaned it, eyes… well Sameen didn’t know how else to describe them other than to say that they were sparkling with mischief, the small, pouty, _kissable_ smirk just serving to incense the dusky brunette more.

Sameen’s right hand gripped the nape of Root’s neck with bruising pressure, slamming their mouths together, teeth grinding for a moment before Root gave her access. Their noses were pressed together uncomfortably but Sameen couldn’t care because she had decided that Root would feel everything she was feeling. Emotions were dirty, messy and complicated; sex was easy and she was frustrated enough that she was wanted to take it out on the woman who caused them.

While her right hand kept Root from pulling away, her left dropped to Root’s waist, untucking her shirt and sliding underneath. Her fingers spread wide, carefully mapping every rise and valley of Root’s topography.

Root moaned when Sameen’s hand slid under her bra, palming and squeezing her breast in a way that was quickly becoming _not enough_ for the lanky brunette.

“Before we get going too far, in the spirit of full disclosure I should mention there is an experimental chip in your brain that ideally will let you recover your memories permanently.”

That was a bucket of cold water to the face, arousal dampening as her ire rose. “You put a computer chip in my brain,” she repeated flatly.

“Not personally, no. But your surgeon was a number, so he returned the favor by doing your operation privately. You researched the technology thoroughly and had Dr Richards walk you through the procedure half a dozen times. I even got you to teach me enough so I could understand what the two of you said.”

Sameen grunted as she turned that over in her mind. “And is there anything else?” Sameen had pushed Root back to the bed and perched herself on Root’s legs at some point when they were kissing so she caught Roots arms and pinning both to her sides. She needed to know if there was anything else Root was keeping from her and wasn’t going to let Root distract her.

“I promise, there is nothing else I am keeping from you.” Sameen frowned at Root for a couple of seconds, trying to figure out if Root was leaving herself some loophole that she could lawyer her way through later, but her language was plain and direct.

“Good, because I would have been extremely annoyed with you if made me mad enough to not do this,” Sameen growled as she pulled Root’s shirt off over her head. Root grinned at the downright _hungry_ look Sameen got when she saw the red lace brassiere Root was wearing. Sameen took a moment to admire the sight then leaned in to kiss Root again, hands pushing the bra up so her fingers could knead Root’s breasts directly.

To tell the truth, there wasn’t a whole lot going through Sameen’s brain at the moment other than _more,_ which is why she bit down on Root’s lip in surprise when she felt her wife’s fingers dance up her thigh and dip under the waistband of her jeans to toy with the upper edge of her panties.

“Sorry. Too much?”

“Not enough,” Sameen growled, one hand abandoning Root’s breast and seizing her wrist, keeping the taller brunette from withdrawing it. “And stop fucking grinning at everything I say.”

“If you insist, sweetie,” Root replied, smile not dimming a single watt. Sameen quickly forgot about it in any case, because the magic in Root’s lips had nothing on what was in her fingers. They slipped under the cotton of her underwear and ghosted over her aching wetness, thumb circling her clit.

Sameen was left blinking when Root suddenly broke liplock, catching on quickly enough when Root unbuttoned her pants. Sameen waited until Root had pressed her back into the bed before tangling their legs together and flipping them so she was on top.

“God, you are so fucking hot,” Sameen said, blushing when Root’s grin indicated that she had uttered her thought aloud. Root took her breath away as she was, stretched out on the covers, long and pale and looking oh-so limber.

“Glad to know,” Root purred, “but there are so many other, more interesting things you could be doing with your mouth other than talking.” Root put her words into practice by raising her head and slipped a hand around Sameen’s waist, pulling the smaller woman down and into full contact.

Eventually Sameen needed more and she pulled her mouth away, whispering her need to taste Root into her ear as she slowly kissed, nipped, licked and scraped her way down Root’s body, memorizing every sigh, hiccough, gasp, bitten-back cry and moan that she elicited with her ministrations. She found that she wanted to see Root come apart under her, to examine every inch of her body, learn how to make the other woman say her name _that_ way.

Root inhaled sharply as Sameen exhaled gently, her mouth less than an inch away from where Root wanted her. Root reached down to force Sameen to close the distance, but Sameen caught her hand and forced it down, Root letting out a frustrated moan in response.

Sameen chuckled, which only made Root try to reach her again. “Patience is a virtue,” Sameen said but Root wanted none of it. Sameen finally relented, giving Root one long lick. Root’s thigh’s spasmed around her head, ankles locking behind her shoulders. Shaw slid one finger inside Root and wrapper her lips around her clit.

 _“Sameen,”_ Root hissed in a way that made everything Sameen was doing about getting Root to find that tone again.

Root, for her part, took the way that Sameen just _knew_ how to eat her pussy as proof that their bond was more than chemistry, that together their code was good. Sameen’s fingers were just long enough to find her g-spot, her tongue soothing flesh nipped at by sharp teeth. When she came, she saw stars and tasted blood.

When she came around, Sameen was sitting on the side of the bed facing away from her. “You could have warned me you were a squirter,” she growled.

Root’s face immediately flamed. “I do not squirt!”

Sameen shot Root a flat look over her shoulder. “There’s a patch, Root. You squirted.”

Root leaned forward to catch Shaw’s elbow as she rose. “Where are you going?”

“Check on the number, make sure he hasn’t put something in his mouth he shouldn’t and choked to death. You should go check to see if your friend has gotten anything on the Russian.”

“She would just tell me if she had found anything, sweetie. The number is safe just on the other side of the doorway, Reese and Fusco are at work and She doesn’t have any pressing matters for me for once. Let us enjoy a couple of hours by ourselves.”

“Alright,  but just let me check on the number.” Root sighed and propped herself up on her elbow to watch Sameen dress. It was utterly fascinating, unable to tear her eyes from the curve of her wife’s ass, nor not memorize the way her hips shifted as the white cotton panties rose into place or the interplay of the muscles in her back as the thin silk robe rose into place..

Root flopped back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling as Shaw padded off into the main room. She would give Shaw half an hour before she would go looking for her. She knew from experience that sometimes Shaw simply needed her space, and although Root may not have liked it, she accepted it. It was simply how this version of Shaw was, still emotionally closed-off, walls a hundred feet high and a hundred feet thick. She was fine with some PDA and giving pleasure  to another person, but not capable of receiving it.

When enough time passed, Root rose and went searching for her partner. Shaw didn’t go far, just to Marcus’s pen, fiddling with her wedding rings with her thumb. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fuck and run,” Shaw said as Root padded through the open door.

“It’s alright. Listen, Sameen, it’s okay if you are not feeling comfortable enough to let me make love to you. I promise I understand, I really do.”

Shaw let out a bitter little laugh, finally turning to face Root. “You would consider it making love, wouldn’t you?” Shaw asked, and then rushed to continue when a flash of hurt crossed Root’s face. “God, see, this is why I don’t do relationships. All I seem to do is open mouth and insert foot. I just meant… fuck if I know what I meant.”

“Hey, whatever it is you are feeling, I promise it is okay.”

“I don’t want to hug it out, Root,” Shaw told the other woman, brusquely pushing past her as the hacker tried to embrace her. She sighed when she turned to face Root again and saw her play with her rings. The Root Shaw knew was implacable, a cheery façade stretched over a cold, heartless core. Seeing Root standing there, anxious enough for it to show, it didn’t jive with what Shaw remembered. It was… very good, the way that the other woman did the little things and seemed to genuinely care for her, Shaw wasn't forgetting that, but it just wasn't what she kept expecting.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a rapping at the door. Giving Root a look that said they weren’t done talking, she went to the entrance, pulling the door gun from the drawer in the table for the S&W Model 19 and held it behind her back as the other unlatched the locks.

“Yes?” She asks as she opens the door a handbreadth.

There were three people standing in the hallway before her door, the neighbor they had run into earlier, a man in a tan shirt and slacks that said ‘super.’ The second man wore a not-quite police-blue uniform and actually carried a pistol. Security, possibly off duty police.

“Sorry for disturbing you ma’am, but one of your neighbors reported a disturbance in your unit. Is everyone okay in there?”

Shaw sighed. “Yes, everything is fine. My wife and I have the weekend off and were… celebrating. We didn’t mean to disturb anyone.”

“I see,” the guy said, eying the exposed skin between the edge of her robe and the door. Unfortunately, the thing is that your neighbor, she said that she saw you come in with a baby. If I could just step in for a moment to make sure everything is okay, I will be right out of your hair.”

“Listen, do you know what my wife and I do?” The guard shook his head. “Let’s just say the President is the leader of the free world because of the stuff we do. So believe me when I say that while I would like to let you inside, I can’t.”

“Sameen, stop being ridiculous,” Root admonished as she walked over toward the door with Marcus on her hip. “Let the man in. The sooner he sees everything is fine the sooner we can get back to fucking.”

Shaw stared at Root, letting the door swing open enough that Root was visible to those in the hall. Shaw pressed the barrel of her revolver into the table. “What? We are both in our robes in the middle of the afternoon and we probably stink with sex.”

The two men looked vaguely uncomfortable at Root’s words, the guard having the grace to look apologetic as well.

“She give you something about our jobs being super-classified or something?”

“Or something,” the guard agreed.

“Well, they are, just not as highly as Sameen would tell you. Anyways, as you can see, everything is in order.”

“Yes I can. Sorry for disturbing your afternoon.”

“One last thing though; from now on, if you think that anyone in this apartment is in trouble, don’t bother. We have Big Bertha to keep us safe,” Shaw told him, waving her home-defense cannon, barrel carefully pointed away from anyone. Shaw shut the door with strictly more force than was necessary and growled at Root.

“Put the baby back in the pen and get your ass back in the bedroom.”

“And what are you going to be doing?”

“Looking for the biggest strap-on we have and use it on you,” Sameen told her, scowling when Root’s face made the opposite expression she had intended and skipped over to the pen.

“Root, why the hell is my nightstand filled with sex toys and yours is full of guns and ammo?” Shaw asked Root where she had thrown herself on the bed a minute later.

“I dunno. Would seem to say something-”

“I swear if you say something about priorities, you are not going to like what I do next.”

“About how we both recognize how unhygienic it would be to store our toys next to our toys,” Root continued without missing a beat.

“But why are the guns on your side?”

“You lost the coin toss.”

Shaw paused where she was tightening the straps of the double-ended dildo. “Back,” shaw instructed, not having a good answer ready.

Sameen crawled onto the bed after Root, the taller cocking her hips under her, an arm pulling her head in for a hungry kiss. Sameen quickly lost the ability to tell what was hers and what was not, so lost in _them_ was she.

Root came again quickly, coming apart in the most perfect way possible. She wasn’t a cuddler, but she found herself smiling away from Root as the other woman pulled her down on her chest, wrapping her arms around her to keep her in place.

“Just a few minutes,” Root murmured into the top of Sameen’s head.

The truth was that Sameen didn’t mind so much, Root’s embrace lighting a completely different kind of fire in a completely different part of her body.

“Repeat this to anyone and I will do unpleasant things, but I’m okay where I am right now,” said into Root’s breasts. Root had to feel the heat radiating from her face, but there was no hint of mockery in her gaze when Root tipped her face up, just something Sameen was beginning to recognize as love.

“If you keep that up you are gonna get fucked again,” when she got her breath back from the kiss Root planted on her.

“Well,” Root murmured coyly.

“Ugh,” Shaw grunted. “In that case, I need to refuel.”

Root cocked an eyebrow. “I’m still good to go.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t the one that is doing all the work either. I need food.” Root finally relented and released her. Root watched what she was sure was the deliberate sway of Sameen’s ass as she left. Root sighed and got up as well after a minute. There were some things she could check up on while Shaw was cooking.

“Make enough for me,” she called out as she moved into the living room and placed herself before the laptop that sat on the table.

Root blinked thirty minutes later when Shaw slid a plate of something breaded and possibly fried alongside a helping alfredo linguini. “Need the carbs,” Shaw said by way of explanation as she settled in across from Root. “Just eat it. It’s good, I promise.”

Of there was one thing that Root could trust Sameen with it was food. She couldn’t remember the last time Sameen made something that wasn’t delicious, experiments aside. Sameen finished her veal first, as was usual. Root tried to avoid looking at the kitchen, knowing that it would be a disaster zone. While her food was good, the former assassin made unnecessarily large messes when cooking.

THat was definitely a problem to stick firmly in the ‘deal with later’ column as Shaw headed back to the bedroom. If there was one good thing that came from Shaw not remembering much it was that she got proportionally hornier.

“ROOT!” Sameen called from the bedroom.

“Coming sweetie,” Root sang back, smiling at the wondering thought of what Sameen had planned next.


	3. Failure to Read Hard Drive 03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Nemo193, Charl, waddict and everyone else at #rootshaw for their help on this chapter.

Sameen Shaw is not a thinker. She much prefers action to inaction, violence to diplomacy. She is not a worrier nor is she prone to insecurity. She does not become preoccupied over the thoughts and feelings of other people and she certainly did not let such thoughts keep her from sleep; at least she didn’t used to. Now, lying on her back, Root -her wife!- tucked under one arm, head resting on her naked chest, she simply cannot seem to turn her brain off.

Her chest aches. She doesn’t understand how this beautiful stranger could stand to be with her when all Shaw could offer her was pain. The thought of the woman sharing her bed coming to harm, be it emotional or physical, made her gut churn and her heart thud heavily in her chest. Her throat closes up and her jaw clenches at the thought, yet she knows it is an inevitability.

The clock on her nightstand reads 2:10 in dimly glowing green numbers when she hears the cry of the number in the next room. Root stirs, raising her head to check the time with eyes barely open. “Go back to sleep, Root. I got it.”

“You sure?” Root murmurs as Sameen slides from her arms, propping herself up on her elbows. “You said that you didn’t want to deal with the nighttime stuff.”

“It’s alright. I’m already awake.” Root grunted and dropped back to the bed, pulling the pillow she hadn’t been using and tucking it under her head and chest.

She felt her nipples harden and fine hairs on her arms and neck stand on end as the decidedly chilly air of the bedroom washes over her. She covers herself with a robe and leaves the bedroom, the mesh in the doorway jingling quietly as she pushes it aside.

The number quiets a little as she pulls him from the crib. She could tell the instant she picks him up he needs a change at the least. Sameen looks around for something to change him on, settling on the bar counter once she places a sheet of newspaper down. She wrinkles her nose in disgust at the scent that only grew stronger as she lays him bare.

She carried him out into the hall with her as she dropped the bag with his diaper in it down the garbage chute  and headed towards the refrigerator and the prepared bottle of milk therein when he starts pawing at her chest.

Putting the bottle in the pot of water, she retrieved her phone from the table by the door and making an addendum noting the time of the feeding in her daily journal entry.

She tested the milk on her forearm like she was supposed to before allowing the infant to suckle. He drained almost half the bottle, producing a prodigious amount of gas. It took another half hour of rocking and singing before he was content to be put back to sleep.

Sameen did not let her attention waver from the number, setting him down as gently as possible and creeping backwards. When she felt she was safely away, she turned, freezing at the sight of Root in the doorway, wearing nothing more than a sleepy smile.

“That was beautiful, I don’t think I have heard you sing that before; what was it?”

“Uh, just something my mother sang to me as a kid.”

“Would you mind singing it to me?” Sameen paused in front of the mesh at Root’s request, allowing the taller woman to wrap her in a hug from behind, breathing an ever-so-soft “please” into her ear. Sameen reached through the and parted it to pass through, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice the sudden weakness in her knees.

Sameen slipped onto the right side of the bed, Root getting in behind to drape herself half over her. Sameen closed her eyes and sang.

_“My baby! I'll make you sleep till the wind of morn blows._

_“My baby! Not your death, nor your father's death, on the journey,_

_“My baby! Your father is on a journey, I'm afraid of the journey.”_

She opened her eyes and looked down, an upwelling of feeling, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of the sight of the woman laying on top of her. Root’s lashes flutter and her lips part slightly as her breath tickles the skin between her breasts.

_“Like the petal I'm afraid of the zephyr._

_“Whoever comes and gives me good news,_

_“I grant him half of my lifetime.”_

Root’s smile widened when Sameen brings her left hand up to run her fingers through Root's hair, tracing delicate shell of her ear and dragging deliberately down her jaw until the pad of Sameen’s index finger dipped under the point of Root’s chin and pressed upwards, lifting Root’s lips to hers.

Sameen was gratified to know that she could steal Root’s breath like Root stole hers when she wanted to. “What was that for?” Root asked eventually.

“Do I need a reason to kiss you?”

“No, but it’s after 3 a.m. We should be sleeping. You should be sleeping.”

“How do you know I wasn’t?”

“You’re all tensed up. It’s like holding a log.” Root got a peculiar look in her eye and her gaze suddenly sharpened. She sat up abruptly and slid her right knee across Sameen’s thighs so she sat up, straddling Sameen’s hips. The blanket falls from Root’s shoulders, the hacker’s eyes taking on a strange look somewhere between anger and admonition.

“I know what that look means Sameen Shaw. You are thinking how you can do nothing but hurt me. Well strike the thought from your mind. I knew what I was getting into when I married you; for better or worse, I am yours and you are mine.” Root punctuated her statement by darting in, swallowing Sameen’s lips with her own, tongue slipping between Sameen’s teeth.

Root pulled away just as she started to reciprocate, falling onto her side, capturing the dusky brunette’s arm in the crook of her neck. She settled her head on Sameen’s bare chest again, her hand tracing abstract patterns on her stomach. “Please stop worrying and go to sleep.”

Sameen opened her mouth to say that she couldn’t sleep but instead tightened the arm around Root, the other settling on the hand that was resting on her stomach. “Okay,” she mumbled instead.

Surprisingly when she closed her eyes, the riot in her brain quieted and she began drift of, lulled by the sound of Root’s breathing.

When she opened her eyes again, the first splinters of sunlight were filtering in through the pale blue curtains.

She blinked twice and raised a hand to cover her eyes, the other tugging the comforter up that had slid down during the night. The motion was enough to rouse Root, the woman pulling away. “Stop that,” Sameen growled, tightening the arm that was circled around Root’s shoulders and pulling her back in.

“What day is it?” she asks, guarded hope in her voice.

“December 16th, 2018. Baby number, Brit-spy-guy, fucking.” Root ‘hmmed’. “This usual? Me just remembering yesterday?”

“No, that might be a first.” Root studied the fingers that tapped against Sameen’s stomach. “I’ll call Dr. Richards. Maybe that chip is finally working.”

“That mean I lost everything in between or something?”

Root frowned. “Hopefully not, but let’s not worry ourselves needlessly.”

The number cried; Root groaned.

“Goddammit,” Sameen growled.

“Might as well get up, I got the baby this time.”

“I’ll get breakfast,” Sameen said in turn. She grabbed her robe off her chair and pulled on a pair of sweatpants. She pulled out a pot and a frying pan, started to fill the former with water and turned two of the stoves on.

She had half a dozen pancakes ready, eggs and bacon cooking side-by-side when Root entered the kitchenette for her food, the number still on her hip, retrieving the bottle that had been warming. Sameen slid two eggs and three slices of bacon onto her plate. She loaded her own plate a moment later and followed Root out to the table.

The number was sat on the table while they ate in silence. Sameen finished before Root of course, placing her plate under running water and collecting the dishes she dirtied making breakfast. Root joined her a minute later and the two of them danced around each other as they cleaned up.

"Any news on our missing Russian?"

Root cocked her head, listening before shaking her head. "Not yet, but it is early. We have another number though.”

Sameen grunted, hopping into a pair of skinny jeans. “Well, I can drop you off at the library with the baby. You figure out where our number is while I scoop up Hersh.”

All the number’s bags fit easily under the hood of the Porsche, Shaw stopping for coffee on the way to the library, carrying and setting up the pen when they arrived.

“Hold on Sameen,” Root called as Shaw approached the gate on the way back out.

“What is it?” Shaw asked impatiently, pacing back to Root. “Do we have another number or not?”

“No, it’s another mystery number. I think it’s another chameleon, numbers belonging to discarded identities. Whoever they belong to, he is quite skilled at cleaning up after himself. No photos that I can find and only isolated scraps of information; an electric bill, credit card payment, wire transfer.”

Shaw scowled. “I hate downtime.”

“Oh, I think I can find something to keep you occupied with.”

Shaw opened her mouth to shut her down except… Fooling around with Root didn’t sound like that bad of an idea. It was a surprisingly (and perhaps it shouldn’t be for more than one reason) pleasant thought, causing her to flush slightly.

“You know you are so cute when you are embarrassed.”

“I do not do cute,” Sameen protested.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me, sweetie.”

“And I’ve been wondering about that; I don’t do pet names. How did I not end you the first time you tried one with me?”

“It made you all hot and bothered, like it does to you now. You wanted to end me, but I was too hot for you to follow through.”

“I dont know why I expected a straight answer out of you,” Sameen said, crossing her arms and leaning back against a bookshelf.

“It’s one of the reasons you love me,” Root said lightly, spinning in her chair, back to the bank of monitors. “You find it charming.”

Shaw scoffed. “One of the reasons why I grit my teeth and bear you, more like.”

Root didn’t say anything, meeting Sameen’s eyes in the reflection of her screen and smirking. Shaw rolled her eyes and turned away, retrieving a heavy, woven rope and whistling for Bear. The dog in question came scrabbling from around the corner, sliding to a halt at her feet.

“Hey, Hersh,” Shaw greeted as the man himself strode into sight half an hour later.

“Shaw, Root. Number changed and fed?”

“He will probably need a bottle before we get back, so warm it up in a pot of water and test it on your arm before you give it to him.” Shaw watched as Root blanked the monitors and rose, grabbing her coat and throwing the keys to the Porsche at her.

“And you want to tell me where we are going?” as Shaw snagged her keys out of the air.

“I made us an appointment with Dr. Richards on the way here, were you not listening when I was on the phone?”

“I was driving the car, not listening to you nattering into your phone."

Well, Dr. Richards said he could fit us in twenty minutes so we need to hurry."

Shaw had to trot to keep up with Root's longer, hurried strides as the other woman practically dashed to the car. Root punched Richards address into the GPS and Shaw followed the voice to a four-story clinic in Queens. It was very modern, glass-fronted with a two-story lobby filled with ferns, a quietly burbling fountain and a zen garden.

“Good morning, Mrs. Shaw, Mrs. Shaw,” a tall, dark-haired man in a well-tailored suit greeted as he approached from the direction of an elevator. Shaw quirked an eyebrow at Root at the wide smile and familiar manner in which he shook both their hands.

“Dr. Richards, I presume?”

“You would be correct in that assumption, though I hope it was more than an educated guess.”

Shaw shook her head. “Sorry Doc, I couldn’t have picked you out from Adam.”

“Ah, well. Why don’t we go up to my office and we can discuss what happened this morning.”

The two women followed Richards up to the fourth floor, down a hall and into his office. It was moderately sized for someone of his apparent success, one of the three visitor’s chairs facing the desk already occupied.

“Sameen, good to see you again. My name, as you probably don’t remember, is Clara Richards. I designed the chip that my husband put into your brain.” Clara was a pale woman of average height with the sides of her head shaved, the rest pulled back into a loose tail. Clara rose as she spoke, offering Shaw a hand and a smile. Shaw took it after a moment’s consideration and sat in the middle of the three chairs.

“So before we get started, can someone give me the rundown on-” Shaw cut herself off when Dr. Richards (and she realized that she had not caught his first name) pulled a file from a drawer and offered it to Shaw without a word.

Shaw briefly considered saying something, but figured it was nothing she hadn’t said before so opened the file. The first couple of pages concerned her initial diagnosis and several failed treatments before describing her current treatment.

Medical technology had really progressed in the last few years as the ‘chip’ in her brain wasn’t actually a chip in the traditional sense, but a genetically engineered organic solution with her own cloned braincell tissue that theoretically would regenerate the damaged nerve endings in her temporal lobe.

“So what happened this morning?” Richards asked when Shaw set the folder down.

“Shaw woke up yesterday morning not remembering anything since 2013 and when she woke up this morning, she remembered yesterday but nothing in between.”

“So that really is unusual for me?”

“Only happened two or three times in the three years you have been coming to see me,” Richards informed her. “However, this is the first time it has happened since I put the memory chip in.”

“So that is a good thing then?”

“Without actually examining you, I would say I am cautiously optimistic at this point. You haven’t had any headaches, blackouts or lapses in daytime memory?”

“You are asking the woman with the memory problems if she is having memory problems?” Shaw asked dryly.

“I realize the irony, but you are the best person to tell me whether or not you are missing memory during the day.”

“Not as far as I can recall,” Shaw answered, shooting Root a sidelong look. Root shook her head when Richards looked to her for confirmation.

"So why don't we get you downstairs and take a MRI so we can see just what is going on in there?"

Shaw followed Richards out of the office and changed into the gown and laid down on the table. The scan only took a few minutes, the images of her brain already up on the massive screen on the wall by the time she got changed back into her clothes. Root and Clara were sitting side by side on the couch, so she stepped up next to Richards and examined the scans.

“I have to say, your scans are looking better than anticipated,” Richards said, using a finger to point out how the scarring in her temporal lobe had been drastically reduced. "The chip looks like it is doing what it is supposed to, repairing the broken connections in your brain."

"So if the goo is working like it should, why am I not remembering anything?”

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

“About three or four hours. Plenty long enough for REM sleep.”

Richards grunted and stroked his chin, clearly thinking it over. “The chip is untested technology; it is impossible to precisely predict how it will interact with your brain. As I am sure you know, there is so much we don’t know about the mind. For now, it appears that it is functioning without any side effects, so I don’t think there is anything else to do right now.”

Shaw grunted, unsatisfied with Richards wait-and-see attitude. “So there’s nothing to do but wait and hope?” she growled, crossing her arms and unconsciously thumbing her rings.

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Shaw. You were a doctor; you know sometimes there is nothing else to do but give it time.”

The irritating thing was that he was right. The goo was working, at least partially, so there really wasn't anything else to do other than wait for the stuff to do its thing. "So how much do we owe you?" Shaw asked, pulling out her wallet.

"We have your financial information on file; we will bill you.”

The ride back to the library was quiet, the pair sitting in the car in silence even after they had arrived. Shaw stared at the wheel, running her hands over it as she tried to force her thoughts into some semblance of order. “What happens if they never come back?”

Root reached out and turned Sameen’s head to face her. “Then we will me new memories, sweetie. As long as we have each other, nothing else matters.”

“But do you have me if I don't remember us?"

“Sameen, do you love me?”

“You know I do,” she growled, annoyed by Root asking questions she already knew the answer to.

"And are you planning on leaving anytime soon?”

“What? Of course not!”

“Then in what way do I not have you?”

“I don’t remember our first kiss, the first time we had sex, our first anything; how can you stand it?”

“Because it is my fault.”

Shaw was silent for a long handful of seconds before asking “what do you mean it is your fault?” quietly.

Root closed her eyes and dropped her head back against the headrest, releasing a noisy sigh. “Finch, Reese, Fusco and I were at the New York Stock Exchange trying to stop Samaritan from crashing the economy; we were trapped in the basement, pinned down when you rescued us. We got out, you did not. I was the one who asked you to come, I was the one who-”

“Root, look at me,” Shaw growled. “While I don’t remember the specifics of the situation, I know that there was nothing you could have said or done that could have made me go down there if I had not wanted to be there. No one, not you, not Reese, not Finch makes my decisions for me, Root. If I was down there, it was to protect you and the team.”

“Sameen, you don’t understand, I-”

“Oh for the love of God, Root,” Shaw snapped, “if you try to claim credit for my decision you are not going to like what I will do.”

"You are completely right, of course. I'm sorry."

Shaw didn't reply immediately, searching Root's face for any sign that she was being untruthful but found nothing but honest regret in her eyes. Whether it was regret for losing her memory or for trying to take credit she couldn't tell but she didn't feel like getting into a fight with Root over it right now.

Hersh was reclined in the command chair, feet up on the desk, munching on a bag of popcorn as a woman screamed at a man in a penthouse apartment with a spectacular waterfront view on the center screen.

"Please tell me you are not watching Passions of Park Place again," Root asked dryly.

Hersh didn't look away from his show, grunting and waving at them to be quiet.

“Are you watching a soap opera, Hersh?” Shaw asked disbelievingly as she came around to stand behind him.

“It’s like a train wreck; you can’t stop watching it,” he replied as he sat up and paused the video. “How’d the doctor’s visit go?

“Not much that’s new. Looks like it’s doing what it is supposed to, but no real effects yet.”

Hersh grunted and rose from Root's seat when she motioned for him to. “The Russian turned up,” Hersh husked.

“Contacted Wesley yet?” Root asked as she settled in behind the screens.

“He’s enroute, should be here any time.”

“So what is the plan?" Shaw asked.

"You, Hersh and Wesley will go and convince that it is in his best interest to leave the kid alone."

"Finally something fun," Shaw commented, a wide grin curving her lips as she punched her palm.

"Agreed," Wesley said as he strode into view. "Where is he?"

"Domain Awareness picked him up going into a restaurant owned by the Yogorov family. Safe to say that he is trying to recruit some assistance in locating you or your son.”

“Then let us convince them of the folly of such an undertaking, shall we?”

 


	4. Not A Chapter, Sorry

Sorry, no real update for this yet but there is news. I've become dissatisfied with this version of Memory Leak and I'm gonna be taking this down in a monthish and reposting. I'm sure there are plenty of people who like this version or would like to keep it for posterity, so if you are one of those, this is your notice to download before its gone forever.

See you in May.


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